


Day Twenty-Nine

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: 30+ Days of TFW Imagines [29]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying Castiel, Crying Dean, Crying Sam, F/M, Reader-Insert, Torture, hurt!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine Dean/Sam/Cas being so relieved that you're okay after a particularly nasty hunt that he starts crying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Twenty-Nine

Dean-

“Hey, ghost!” you shout. “Over here!”

The ghost whirls, swinging one arm around, and suddenly the nine foot grand piano is sliding across the floor towards you at a much faster pace than you could ever dodge.

Shoot.

The piano slams into you, pushing you with it until it- and, by extension, you- hits a wall. But it doesn’t stop. The ghost gets an intense look of concentration and the piano begins to push against you, obviously attempting to crush you.

You feel ribs cracking and shout for Dean. The pain is intense as those ribs continue to break, the broken ends digging into places they shouldn’t, judging by the feeling. You can’t stop the cries of pain that fall from your lips, even as it begins to draw you down into unconsciousness. Through the dark fuzziness covering you vision, you can see Dean desperately trying to fend off items the ghost is throwing in his direction.

“Dean,” you gasp, and then the world goes black.

X X X X X X

“Y/N!” Dean shouts, swinging his shotgun and finally managing to land a shot on the ghost. “Sammy, find that locket!”

“I’ve got it.”

“Well, burn it and come help me!”

He scrambles across the room and begins attempting to pull the piano away from you. He hears the screech of a burning ghost, and then Sam is stomping into the room.

“Y/N!” he says, running to join his brother. Together they manage to push the piano away enough to get to you. Dean gathers you in his arms, carrying you to the middle of the floor.

“Y/N?” he says, carefully checking you over. You don’t stir, even when he presses on the clearly broken lower half of your ribcage. “Sammy, we’ve got to get her to a hospital.”

X X X X X X

Sam drives. Dean sits in the passenger seat, trying not to panic. He knows driving would have distracted him from the fear he’s feeling, but he couldn’t bring himself to let anyone else hold you on the way to the hospital. They probably weren’t supposed to move you, but the abandoned house they were at was a good forty-five minutes away from the hospital. Sam got them there in fifteen, somehow avoiding the police in the process.

Dean bursts into the emergency room, Sam having gone to park the car, and shouts for help. Several nurses scurry over, two dragging a gurney with them. He stumbles through a made up story about something falling on you and reluctantly lets them wheel you away.

When Sam finally enters the room, Dean is slumped in a chair, staring helplessly at the floor. A nurse is seated next to him asking questions. Sam quickly takes over, leading the nurse away so Dean can have some space.

X X X X X X

You’re very pale on the hospital bed. Sam is listening intently to what the doctor has to say. After several hours, a surgery, and then recovery time, you were finally cleared for visitors. Apparently the bottom four ribs on each side were snapped in several places and both your lungs were punctured in the process. The doctor commended Dean on his quick thinking- there was no way an ambulance would have gotten there in time.

The doctor leaves and Sam joins Dean by your bed. “They have her in a medically induced coma,” he explains. “But she’s going to be fine. They’ll wake her up in a few days.”

Dean nods.

“I’m going to run back to the motel for a shower and clean clothes. You want anything?”

“No.”

“Alright. I’ll be back.”

As soon as Sam’s gone, Dean collapses into a chair and cries tears of sheer relief. You’re going to be okay.

 

Sam-

The vampire pins you to the wall, smiling cruelly and rubbing his nose along the line of your neck.

“Smell so good,” he murmurs. “Bet you taste just as good.”

You open your mouth to scream, but he quickly takes advantage and stuffs a dirty rag inside. You gag on the taste.

“That’s better,” he says. “Can’t have you making too much noise. It would bring your hunter friends running and interrupt my meal. I hate getting interrupted.”

You catch a glimpse of fangs, and then a sharp pain explodes through your neck. you scream through the gag.

The vampire hums to himself as he drinks, a light, lilting tune that feels oddly familiar. You struggle, but it’s no use. You’re only getting weaker. Your vision is fuzzy and you feel dizzy.

The last thing you’re aware of is Sam shouting your name.

X X X X X X

Sam swings the machete with a roar, taking off the head of the nearest vampire. He can see you going limp in the grip of the nest leader and sees red.

He plows through the nest, faintly aware of Dean by his side. The nest leader drops you when Sam reaches him, bringing a hand up to wipe his mouth.

“Oh, is this yours?” he chuckles, gesturing to you. “Too bad. Finders, keepers.”

“Shut up,” Sam growls, already swinging the machete.

The body falls to the floor, head rolling away, but Sam doesn’t notice. He’s lifting you in his arms and running to the car, shouting for Dean to clean up while he gets you to a hospital.

X X X X X X

Twelve hours, twenty-six stitches, and eight blood transfusions later, Sam is sitting by your hospital bed. The doctor assure him you’ll wake soon, but that doesn’t do anything to erase the fear. He sits with spread legs, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his hands. His eyes are locked on your face.

A soft knock at the door breaks him from his thoughts. He turns to see Dean.

“How’s she doing?” the older Winchester asks.

“The doctor says she’ll be fine,” Sam says. “Dizzy and really tired for the next few days, but fine. She should wake up soon.”

Dean nods, walking around to the other side of your bed. He uses tender fingers to brush a stray hair off your forehead.

“I brought you a change of clothes,” Dean says, holding out the bag in his hand. “Figured if you looked half as bad as I did, you would want it.”

“Thanks,” Sam sighs, taking the bag. He reluctantly goes down the hall to the bathroom, where he cleans up the best he can and changes into the clothes Dean brought. He does feel better, being clean- well, sort of clean- but only a little better.

He quickly returns to your room, arriving in team to see you begin to stir. His heart leaps to his throat and he rushes to your bedside, taking your hand in his.

“Y/N?” he says quietly, willing you to open your eyes.

You let out a soft sound and turn your head towards his voice. Dean leaves over your bed expectantly.

Finally, your eyes flicker open a little. Sam mentally cheers you on.

“S’m?” you mumble.

He slumps into his chair with a relieved sob. He hadn’t realized he was crying until now. Your eyes are hazy, but awake and open and seeing him. You smile fondly, curling your fingers around his.

“Y/N,” he breathes, lifting your hand to his mouth. “You’re okay.”

“I’m going to give you two a moment and go find a nurse,” Dean says before slipping out of the room.

As soon as he’s gone, Sam lets himself break down. Sobs wrack his body. You gently tug him closer, drawing him up onto the bed with you. He wraps you in his arms and cries.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair.

You smile, laying your head against his chest. “I love you, too.”

 

Cas-

The Demon circles you. You clench your arms, testing the ropes.

“There’s no getting out,” he tells you. “I know you hunters and your tricks. You’re mine now.”

You glare at him through the gag, praying silently for Cas as you do so.

“Let her go.”

The Demon smirks, turning to face the Angel. “Right on time, Angel,” he purrs.

He snaps his fingers and a ring of holy fire springs up around Cas, effectively trapping the Angel. Cas growls low in his throat, gripping his Angel blade.

“Enjoy the show,” the Demon says with a harsh laugh before whipping out a knife and dragging the tip along the inside of your arm.

You scream through the gag, eyes locked on Cas. Your angelic boyfriend looks ready to explode, but he’s helpless to do anything but watch.

The Demon chuckles, switching to the other arm. You manage to hold back the scream this time, tears welling up in your eyes. You’re no stranger to pain, but this? This is a whole new level.

“You like that?” The Demon says. “It’s my specialty. A simple potion, really. See, I was a witch in another life.”

The next cut is placed along the line of your collarbone, accompanied by a matching one on the other side. You whimper and close your eyes, tears streaking your face.

X X X X X X

After hours of torture, Cas watches in horror as you go limp against the chains holding you against the wall. He fired off a text a while back, giving Dean his location, Hopefully the Winchesters are on their way and will arrive soon. He’s not sure you can hang on much longer

“Shame,” the Demon sighs, tapping the bloody knife against his chin. “It’s not as much fun after they pass out.”

“Leave her alone,” Cas snarls, pacing the circle. “You’ve had your fun. Now let us go.”

“Mmm, I don’t think I will. See, I have plans. She’ll wake up, and then we’ll start again.”

“No, you won’t.”

The Demon whirls in time for Dean to stab him in the heart with the demon killing blade. He lets out a choked sound, flickering orange as the blade burns through his essence, and then goes limp.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam says, putting out the holy fire. “Sorry we couldn't get here sooner.”

“You’re here now,” Cas replies, practically running across the room to where Y/N is. Dean is already working on picking the locks on your manacles. Cas unlocks them with a touch and catches you in his arms. He lowers you to the floor, lifting a hand to press his fingers to your forehead. His Grace glows and he watches your wounds heal.

“She gonna be okay?” Dean asks, crouching beside Cas.

Cas nods, tenderly pushing your hair out of your face. “She’ll be fine. I’m going to take her back to the Bunker. Will you two be fine getting back on your own?”

“Yeah, get her home,” Sam says. “We have the Impala. You two are going to need some time. We’ll take the long way.”

“Thank you.” Cas scoops you up in his arms and flies you straight to the room you share with him in the Bunker. He carefully lays you on the bed. As he stares down at your sleeping form, he finds his eyes prickling in an unfamiliar manner. When he rubs them, his hands come away wet and he realizes he’s crying. He’s never cried before. It’s a strange sensation.

He sits on the edge of the bed and gently strokes your hair, finding himself unable to stop crying. It seems the relief stemming from you being okay is spilling over in the form of tears.

You stir, turning your face to nuzzle against his wrist. He smiles, despite the tears, and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Y/N,” he says quietly.

“Hmm?” you murmur, eyelids flickering.

A sob rips itself from his chest and he leans down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Y/N,” he breathes.

“What happened?” you ask, eyes opening. Your brow furrows and you lift a hand to his face. “Cas, you’re crying.”

“I can’t seem to stop it,” he explains.

You push yourself into a sitting position. “Cas, I’m okay.”

“I know. That’s why I’m crying.”

“That’s why- oh!” You smile fondly and pull him in for a kiss. “You’re the best.”

He blushes. “I certainly strive to be.”

“Well, you succeed.”


End file.
